Grief
by CharlieTheAstr0naut
Summary: John gives an address regarding the subject of grief. Anyone tuning in will soon know why he's talking about it. (Rated M to be safe) (TW: Suicide attempt & mentions of depression and self harm)
1. Chapter 1

**So... it's been a while, and it kinda feels good to write again even though this short story is bad. Before you read this, i must warn you that this contains a suicide attempt and mentions of depression. If you have a history or are very sensitive to this subject, I highly reccomend not reading this. If you're dealing with depression or have thoughts of suicide, please seek help! You matter so much and are so strong for making it this far.**

* * *

Whenever John had his weekly broadcasts, he'd always preach something along the lines about sin and the importance of reaching atonement. If anyone had their radios on or were near a television, they would only hear the words he had to say, but not listen as they would sometimes carry on with their daily activities. In this recent broadcast, it seemed as though, for once, everyone listened. The camera focused on the Baptist, standing idly in his dim lit bunker, terribly presented as his clothes were wrinkled up, his complexion looked pale and sickly, and the gray circles under his eyes were just barely visible. Nonetheless, he still spoke with much energy; Like he was the happiest man alive. He started by greeting his "brothers, sisters, and many alike", shortly before announcing that he wasn't going to be discussing sin nor atonement; That instead he was going to be talking about grief.

"Grief… It's a heavy emotion we all come across at some point," He began, "Sometimes, we feel it when we experience loss, whether if it's over the a lover, a close friend, a member of your family, or even your pet— It'll be there, and for those who know grief; Know it like an old forgotten friend, you understand. You mourn. You weep. You go through something more agonizing than stubbing your toe…" As he spoke, his energy began to drop significantly after letting out a forced chuckle.

"Now, you're probably thinking, 'Why are you talking about this?'" John paused, his eyes wandering as he looked for the right words to say, "Because… I want you to know…- I need to tell-" He clenched his fists along with his teeth, muttering an inaudible swear as he stopped again, gathering his thoughts. He remained silent for a solid ten seconds of attempting to piece together the right words. "Because…" John spoke again, "I won't be there to witness the Collapse. I won't be there to march through Eden's Gate and see our paradise…" His smile was gone now, "I'll tell you now, not to worry… More importantly, not to grieve… Because I'm not worth anyone's tears nor pity."

John walked over to the camera, stretching his arm out just enough for him to reach the record button, "To my brothers; My sister… I'm sorry."

He ended the broadcast, standing idly for a moment as he could almost feel his thoughts spreading and eating away at his brain. It was starting to give him a headache, and after what seemed like an eternity, he finally began to make his way out as soon as he heard his men coming towards his way. He could hear them rambling something about how they were confused and worried about what the hell he had just said, and it's something he probably should've expected. Fortunately, he found himself prepared. As he rounded the corner, he saw the two men approach him, concern written all over their eyes when they caught a glimpse of him. Before any of them could say a word, John shoved his way past them, hoping to leave without a commotion. But as soon as one of them laid a hand on his shoulder, as if he were trying to stop him, the Baptist quickly reached out for the man's face, not wasting any time setting them on both sides before digging his thumbs into his eyes. Above the his agonizing screaming, John hissed, making sure to address the other man standing in horror and shock, "Don't try to stop me…"

As soon as the screams began to die down, John let him fall to the ground, the second man stepping away and not even attempting to say anything as John walked out. He made his trip to the ranch as fast as possible, and once he got there, he locked all the doors and windows, hoping to stop anyone from preventing what he was about to do next. When he got to his room, he sat on his bed, staining the sheets with the sticky blood that covered his hands. He couldn't care less about those silky covers, as they were already stained from his own tears from previous nights when he couldn't hold back from breaking down due to stress and the energy he lacked to hold himself together. He stressed from the past that held onto him like a vulture gripping its sharp talons into his flesh; He stressed about holding onto the only family he once lost. He tried hard to hold onto them this time; Tried hard to impress so he wouldn't disappoint and lose them again, and the energy to give it his all drained him to a point of exhaustion and depression. Depression wasn't a new face to him, but this time it violated him to a point where he felt useless; Felt like he was letting down everyone around him no matter what he did. The emotion he felt carved his biggest sin onto his chest along with the scars that he dug into his arms and stomach that stimulated the same high cocaine had, and it only showed him that John Duncan was still a part of him; That his past was not something he could let go of. It was a chained weight he's been dragging around and there's no key to getting it off his ankle. John was tired. He couldn't bear to carry his own weight, and he was sure his family couldn't stand carrying him as well.

After a few minutes of debating his choice of poison, John pushed himself off the bed, walking into the bathroom and sweeping his razor off the counter. He cut the tips of his fingers on the sharp edges until he finally got a blade out. Brushing the blood off of his fingers, he stood with his arm hovered over the sink. There were dozens of scars scattered on this arm, some old and some new, but all it took to take the weight away was one. Placing the blade on his wrist, he inhaled for a moment, bracing for what was to come afterwards, before digging it deeply into his flesh, dragging it all the way up his arm. Within a matter of seconds, burning blood poured out like a waterfall, dripping into the sink and floor and causing John to feel light headed already. He dropped to his knees slowly before tumbling back into the wall behind him. He sat with his arm in his lap, the blood staining his clothes. Not wanting to see the red sight, he drifted his gaze to the ceiling. The lights were starting to have a hazy aura and everything else was blurry. Every time he blinked, John grew sleepier and sleepier. The only sound he heard was his own struggle to breathe along with a distant pounding and shouting. Whoever was at his door was too late. The gates of the afterlife, as he imagined, whether if it was heaven, hell, or even purgatory, were starting to open for him.

Everything began to feel so surreal in a matter of time, and John could barely think anymore. He could still hear the faint banging that echoed through the walls of his home, followed by some voices that he couldn't identify at first. Then came a huge crash that he could barely jump to as he knew that his own bedroom door was just broken down. Just before he could close his eyes and block out whoever would try to save him, or if they tried, he felt a ping of shock as he heard a clear voice that belonged to his oldest brother, "Oh my god…" Jacob's face finally came into view, taking John into his arms and keeping one hand tightly closed around the self-inflicted wound. The terror on his face along with the desperate pleas to stay awake and alive was enough for the younger brother to realize that this was all a mistake. The regret was starting to sink in, and he himself began to feel scared too. But he felt weak in his brother's arms, unable to obey his mind and body. He wanted to help close the wound and wanted to say, "I'm sorry. I didn't know you cared." But all he could do was weep, discovering that he had not run dry of his tears after all. He shivered, feeling his eyes roll into the back of his head as the world went black briefly.

When he opened his eyes once more, he was alone and lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. The light above him has blinking annoyingly. He was surrounded by needles he's used to inject drugs into his bloodstream along with the razor blades he used on himself to get that same feeling of getting a high. He felt cold and heavy, unable to bring himself to do anything but look at the figure standing in the doorway. There was a young boy, having raven black hair and blue eyes just like him. He was standing in horror, tears in his eyes as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. John couldn't either when he realized that this boy was him, and he would soon become the man he was now.

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 **I might add another chapter (probably won't be for a while or so since I've mastered the art of procrastination this year), but for now, I'll mark this as a completed work.**


	2. Chapter 2

John didn't know what he was expecting the afterlife to be like, but he sure didn't expect it to look like a dim room lit by grey lighting; He didn't expect it to smell of iodoform or other fresh chemicals. That's when he finally decided to make an effort to get a better look to see if there was more to his surroundings. Gathering a bit of internal movement, John fought the urge to close his eyes again, finding a motivation to lift his neck just enough to look down his body, which was covered by a rough, thin blanket, and in the corner of his eyes, he spotted a figure leaned up against a chair. He looked over only to discover that it was none other than his older brother, looking as if he were asleep. As he strained himself to look around some more, John could now hear his own heartbeat, a sign that this was no afterlife. He was still alive.

John let out a heavy sigh as he dropped his head against the pillow underneath him, and the breath seemed to have caught Jacob's attention because he was starting to stir from his half-conscious state, "John…?"

The Baptist didn't respond at first, now wishing that he didn't wake up because now he'd have to talk to Jacob; He knew he had to tell him about the earlier event that occurred. "Hey, brother," Jacob moved his chair closer to the bed, an unreadable look on his face, but a sense of relief in voice, "How're you feeling?"

It took long for him reply, as John had thought too much about it. _My arm hurts. My hand is a little bit numb. Nonetheless I'm still alive. Mentally, on the other hand, I'm pretty fucked._ "I feel bad…" He finally said, not having the energy to go into detail.

"I bet. You lost a lot of blood once we got you here… For a moment, I really thought we were gonna lose you."

John didn't respond; He didn't know what to say, or where to begin with all of this. He slowly brought himself into a sitting position with the help from Jacob. "I guess I've got some explaining to do?"

Jacob was silent for a moment as he debated his choice of words, "I knew what was going on midway through your broadcast, but I think a lot of us want to know why you did it… You don't have to talk about it right now though."

"But I'll need to do it eventually."

"Yeah… I don't know what's going on with you to make you do what you did earlier, and being silent about it doesn't seem to be making you any better."

John nodded, feeling his eyes grow heavy, "I know… Even before this, I still knew. I just didn't think it was important. But I think really crossed the line this time."

John's eyes grew wet and hot, and he turned away so Jacob wouldn't see the weakness he was expressing. If he weren't his family, he probably would've been scolded for being weak, and his brother knows exactly what to do to the ones who aren't strong or can't take the heat. But since he shared the same blood, he could imagine that Jacob was only disappointed.

"I understand where you're coming from," Jacob began, "I think we all reach a point in our lives when we fall down to rock bottom. I guess the only difference is how we reach it."

John looked back at him, eyes and cheeks now a light shade of red.

"I know you're in that point, John. But I'm not going to pretend to know what you're going through. If you need to talk, please do it. Joseph, Faith and I are right here, and are ready to listen. I'd appreciate it if you tried." His eyes fell dark for a moment, "I don't want to see you hurt yourself again."

The heaviness came back once more, and this time it not only affected John's eyes, but his chest as well. As he inhaled, he quivered with emotion. He let his tears slip from his eyes, covering his face as he did so as he sniveled and wept.

Jacob laid a hand on his back, rubbing circles as he cooed, "Deep breaths, John. Deep breaths."

* * *

John was allowed to go home a few days later, with Jacob driving him back and staying with him. From there, he eyed him like a hawk, making sure that he wouldn't make another attempt to take his life again. That same afternoon, Faith came over as well, wanting to let John know that she was there for him too. She had even volunteered to cook meals and do whatever it took to make John smile. It was an annoyance at first, and John felt worse as he was now getting attention like some toddler, making him think that he became a heavier burden on everyone around him. That evening, the last Seed came to the ranch, and it made John freeze up upon seeing Joseph in his home. He was the one he tried not to disappoint the most, as he was practically the leader of Hope County, and it intimidated him to some extent.

By Joseph's request, Faith and Jacob left the room for a moment so he could be alone with John, who almost seemed afraid to meet his gaze at first. "John," He began, "Look at me, please…"

Reluctantly, the youngest brother did so. Joseph looked him over, as if he were searching for answers in his body language and current emotion. John finally opened his mouth, stammering to get his words out, that to him seemed necessary to say, especially in front of the Father himself, "I-I know I said this before. But I'm sorry. I know that you expected better of me… I know that this isn't who you wanted to see-"

He stopped talking when Joseph dipped his head, sighing for a moment, and all John could do was brace himself for what his brother had to say. "You don't have to apologize, John," He finally said, looking up, "If anything, I'm sorry…"

John stayed silent, and as he waited for him to continue, he caught Joseph's gaze on his arm; The one that he sliced open. He held it to his stomach, covering up the stitches with his other arm.

"I had no idea that you were hurting," Joseph continued, "I had no idea that you were in this much pain…"

"I didn't talk about it much. So it's really my fault for not-"

"And I can only imagine you still are, and I wish you weren't," From behind the glasses, John could see that Joseph's eyes were starting to get a bit more glassy. "Do you know you're loved?"

John blinked, and when he didn't say anything, Joseph took his silence for an answer. "You are loved," He began, his voice cracking a bit, "You are loved by me; By Jacob; By Faith; By everyone… And it breaks me to know that you can't see that."

John soon began to cry, "Maybe I don't deserve it… Why should I when I constantly let you down-"

"Those are your demons talking…!" Joseph seemed to have raised his voice a little, but toned it back down as he spoke again, "You do deserve love; Every drop of it, no matter how big or small."

"Joseph…"

John was pulled into a brotherly embrace, with his head buried in Joseph's chest, and his arms wrapped around him so tightly as if he were to let go, he'd lose him. He wept, trying to keep his sobs down. "You are doing such an amazing job…" Joseph whispered, "With everything you've done for the Project, to fighting this battle and making it this far. I'm proud of you, John. I'm glad you've accomplished so much… I lost you once. I don't want to lose you again."

The Baptist held onto his brother for a little while longer until he was ready to let go. Once he pulled away, his face was wet with tears, and Joseph, with his head still leaned in to John's, began to say a short prayer that he seemed to be spoken from his heart—

"Father Lord, I come to you with a heavy heart for my brother. He battles his own personal demons, and it has driven him to a moment of heartbreak and hopelessness. I ask that you show him a way out of the dark. Show him that there is a different path, and it's a better one to take than the one he was on. Show us how we can be his light. Bless him with love and comfort. Let him know of his importance on this earth. I pray in your name. Amen."

* * *

"Alrighty then," Faith began, "What sounds good to you right now?"

"I dunno…" John replied, unenthusiastically.

"Hmm, okay… I could make you waffles?"

"I don't have a waffle maker."

"What about some eggs? Maybe with a side of bacon and fruit?"

John sighed silently, "Faith, I appreciate what you're trying to do here. But right now, I don't think I need it-"

"Okay, hush up."

"Excuse me?"

"I know you don't think you need this, but you do. I heard a little bit of what Joseph was telling you last night, and he's right. You deserve every bit of love no matter how big or small. This is how I show that I love and care about you. I could give you the biggest bear hug ever."

John chuckled, "That's okay-"

"That isn't an option." She walked around the table and then proceeded to wrap her arms tightly around John's chest.

"God, you're strong," John exhaled heavily, surprised at the strength that he didn't even know if this was a hug or not.

"And I'm not letting go until you feel better, or make a decision on what you want to eat."

John relaxed a bit, finally attempting to put some thought into what he wanted for breakfast. While thinking, Faith spoke again, "I'm gonna be real cliché here… It's gonna get better— And I know, you hear it a lot; You're probably sick of hearing it. But I think people say that because it's true."

"For some people—"

"For everyone. I mean, look at me. I was pretty much a mess when I first got introduced to the Project. If it weren't for the Father and every single amazing person here, I probably would've taken my life in a heartbeat."

John made a sound of acknowledgement, as if to say, "Glad you managed to recover."

"I'm serious, John!" Faith loosened her grip a bit, gazing down at the Baptist, "It'll get better for you too. You'll have your bad days, but you'll have really good ones too. If today doesn't turn out to be so good for you, there's always tomorrow; And the next day, and the day after, etcetera."

John nodded, managing to smile a little bit and patting Faith's arm as if to return the hug. In response, she let out a hum and hugged him tighter once more, "It'll be okay."

"Thanks, Faith…"

"Have you figured out what you want?"

"Eggs and bacon sound good to me."

Faith smiled, letting go of him to settle her hands on his shoulders, "Does coffee sound good too?"

"Coffee sounds great."


End file.
